


All's Fair in Combat and Contracts

by Dangereuse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bungo and Belladonna Were the It Couple, Do I have to tag that anymore, F/M, Floof, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Hobbit Romance, Hobbits Like Contracts, Like a Dandelion Floof, So jealous, Their contract was like 5 million pages, They Argue Marriage Contracts for the Drama, and Bella totes has it memorized, culture clash, lol, much romance, or do we just assume?, so much, so much floof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/pseuds/Dangereuse
Summary: Bella was the only child of the Shire's most notorious love match, but she's completely aware that having those expectations in her own romance is the height of stupidity.  But then Thorin starts going about, sneakily proposing in front of everyone with a mathom she's told could purchase the Shire and telling all and sundry that he'll take only her as his queen, and well. She might be a little discombobulated.OR Hobbits don't just get married without some extensive contract negotiation.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 37
Kudos: 392





	All's Fair in Combat and Contracts

Bella had always dreamed of her marriage contract. She’d read all four hundred plus pages of her parents’ and never failed to swoon when she got to her favorite parts: the stipulations for Bag End, the detailing of Belladonna’s wedding dress, the push gift for her own birth, and, best of all, the institution of yearly family adventure.

Belladonna had famously held out for eighteen months on a provision demanding that she be buried in the slopes behind the Great Smial in Tuckborough, so that she might rest beside her beloved sister, long enough for Bungo to arrive at the middle of the night, mark out a little double plot, and show up the next morning for _first breakfast_ with saplings (wisteria for love and olive for forgiveness) and mulch comprised of Bungo’s renowned compost, tree bark, and the remnants of a first draft demanding a joint plot on the Baggins’ family land.

Belladona and Bungo’s marriage contract had been infamous around the Shire for years, held up as a shining example of romance.

A final one hundredth and sixty fourth amendment regarding the vegetable distribution in the back garden had been in heated negotiation when poor Bungo had experienced a severe pain in his chest and died suddenly, leaving Belladonna heartbroken and clutching the third draft of their amendment.

Bella had put aside her dreams about negotiating a marriage and thus adventuring in the years since her parent’s passing, until she’d settled into responsible spinsterhood. Then, of course, a troupe of dwarrow, a wizard, and a dragon had rekindled her love of grand adventure and a romantic dwarf king and his kisses had relit her desire for romance. 

Bella really had been planning to go easy on Thorin originally ever since he’d first talked of marriage in Laketown—a benevolent takedown with a fully cushioned collision to conclude her absolute victory in the battle for their marriage contract. They were older, and had already wasted too much time on trolls and Arkenstones, and, given that her beloved’s heart eyes could be seen from the _Shire itself,_ it wouldn’t do to be to take advantage of his open and obvious heart. Thorin loved her and didn’t care who knew it, elf, Man or dwarf, and Bella could yield a little bit of her childhood desire for grand romantic gestures of for the depth of ardor he had already shown her.

But then the Mithril Incident. The bloody, Valar-damned Mithril Incident, where Thorin had proved his utter ruthlessness and his cunning and beautifully romantic nature to leverage the full three months of his convalescence as a head start in the drafting of negotiations before finally letting on, ever so casually, that the mail shirt had been a proposal in the eyes of his people and that he could only be so grateful that her continued presence indicated her willingness to forgive that bit of nastiness on the ramparts. Well. She’d underestimated him. He’d distracted her with those beautiful blue eyes and horrible gut wound, and he’d used the time to come around and sweep her feet out from behind her. How could she have ever doubted the romance in Thorin’s soul?

Now it was _on_. She had those three Eru-blasted months to catch up on. Her contract for a simple burglary had been nigh on twenty pages, and Bella knew she was in the presence of masters. Thorin had no doubt snapped up Balin for his side of the negotiations, and she’d need a dwarrow representative herself, but Bella knew she had to bring in the cavalry if she hoped to salvage the situation. She’d spent the last three days in separate negotiations with the Ravens, deliberating over their price to ferry contracts back and forth from the Shire in absolute secrecy. In the end, she probably could have bargained them down a few head of sheep, but by then she’d been so desperate to catch up she considered them an acceptable loss. She’d sent and emergency missive to Uncle Gerontius himself to beg his consult on the contract.

But first, she needed to see what Thorin himself had been working on, see if she could recover her _three whole months_ of idleness.

Which led her here, in front of Balin, a basket of her best pumpkin scones and famous maple butter under her arm as she stood in front of the dwarf’s desk. Bribery.

“—And well, I’d thought, that since being a simple hobbit in a mountain full of dwarrow, and with the whole cultural clash between myself and Thorin over the meaning of the proposal, that perhaps it might be possible—,” here she slid over the basket of scones over Balin’s desk, careful not to hit any of his paperwork, “for me to catch a glimpse at our marriage documents.” When Balin looked up, blank-faced, she carefully removed the folded towel off of the top of the scones, letting a little waft of aromatic steam right out from under its linen prison and straight up into Balin’s nose. “Just a first draft, perhaps, so that I might not be operating under such a disadvantage.” Bella watched with pleased eyes as Balin’s expression grew a little half lidded under the scent, and tried not to rock eagerly on her fuzzy hobbit toes. He just might go for it, at this rate, might let her see a _clause or two_ , maybe a whole subsection.

“That’s a solid idea, lassie. I hadn’t even thought out that, after our last little cultural miscommunication, but perhaps you’re right. Yes.” And then Balin turned around from his desk, unlocked his file cabinet, rummaged about a bit, and pulled out a small sheaf of pages. No more than three, and gently rested them in front of her.

Bella tried not to shoot her hands out immediately and snatch them up. Three whole pages of the marriage contract! She’d never could have hoped that Balin would let these go so easy! She moved forward, greedy to look upon the pages.

“Oh thank you, Balin! I had hoped you’d be kind to hobbit lass, but I know how these things can get and didn’t wish to presume upon our friendship! I just knew that Thorin had snatched you up as his counsel the second I found out that we’d already been engaged for three months.”

“Er, yes, lassie,” Balin said, but he was already poking around curiously in her basket, so she had no hard feelings over his distraction.

“Could I look these over for a few minutes?” She asked, hoping he was sufficiently engaged as to agree.

Balin waved a hand already full with a crock of maple butter at her. “Why don’t you just get it back to me when you’ve finished?” Balin offered, easily. “I could answer any questions you might have then?”

Answer questions?! Bella nearly floated off the floor in her excitement, before she regained her brain and wagged a finger at Balin, the crafty old coot.

“Ha! Nice attempt, my friend,” she grinned, feelings hurt not a whit that he was trying to reclaim some of Thorin’s advantage. Three whole pages! “But we both know you can’t represent us both contractually!” And she snuck out the door before Balin could retract his offer of a peek.

***

Bella laid out the three precious pages in her meticulously cleaned desk in a small study off the body of the main library she’d suborned for her purposes. She’d methodically cleaned the complex mirror system that fed sunlight into the little room, and best of all a neat little lock that took a small brass key instead of a dwarven keyword. She always wore her little ring to get here, and the location was unknown to even Ori. She had her own marriage contract drafts stored here in comparative safety versus her quarters, (would dwarrows ever cease barging in to private domiciles!) and she had a complete mock-up of the language in the first twenty pages, with a subsequent seven outlines for how she wanted to guide the evolution of the contract towards her final demands.

Her hands were trembling before she even started reading.

When she finished, she stared horrified at the document for a full thirty minutes, before she frantically examined the backs of the pages for more text. Blank. She reread the whole thing, searching for hidden meanings, references to appendices, code. She came up blank. She tried for a few moments to see if these pages were secretly many pages pressed into one parchment. She examined them under the sunlight and under lamplight and planned to return under moonlight before she recalled Elrond’s words that the art of moonrunes had been lost.

It read like a simple contract. Joining of Bella Baggins and Thorin son of Thrain. A large amount of the first page was a simple listing of all the names she and Thorin had earned over their lives. It indicated that the marriage also included conferment of the crown of the Consort of Erebor and gave a simple and surely incomplete listing of rights and duties of the title therein. It ended on a simple ‘Let what Mahal has joined no being tear asunder’ and blank spaces where everyone was to sign.

Bella blinked at the cold, blank document and tried not to cry.

Then she perked up. Surely Balin was putting her on! She had said herself this morning that Balin had given her the contract too easily. She’d been fooled like a dumb faunt believing that elves could fly. Oh, the crafty old bastard had gotten her good! She could _respect_ that. Ooh. Who could she draft upon her team with such skill to countermand him?

In the meantime, she’d have to go straight to the top. She rubbed her hands together. Luckily it was the weakest link.

She ambushed Thorin just outside of his audience chamber the next day, right before a meeting he was supposed to make with one of the elf delegates, so he’d have extra incentive to go along with her scheme. She’d offer to accompany him after in return, cheer him up.

She knew her dear dwarf wouldn’t budge if a tiny invisible creature came out to side-tackle him away from his guards, so she hissed out a quick, “It’s me, my love,” as breathy as she could right into his ear.

The poor dear shuddered a bit at her breath—success—and let himself be snuck right into the closet Bella had scoped out the minute her dwarf was well enough to make the trek back and forth from the Hall of Kings.

Bella stuck out her invisible tongue at Dwalin’s retreating back. Surely, he was in the marriage contract ploy with his rat bastard of a brother.

Bella slipped off her little ring the second she had her king in the closet. Her heart softened the moment she saw him staring down at her, melting her with his eyes. She dropped her gaze to the hollow of his throat for a brief moment, to collect herself. Iluvatar-bless, his eyes should be classified as weapons.

The hollow of his throat wasn’t much better, frankly, but at least all it tempted her to do was suck it, where his heart-eyes completely demolished all structural stability in her spine and her knees.

“Thorin, I know this is hardly proper, outside all the bounds of propriety and beyond the bounds of behavior directing the course of a gentlehobbit,” she began, and then she had to grab onto the lapels of his coat for secondary support, because really, how could he look at her like _that,_ eyes gone black and pupils blown. “But I really have to ask, my love,” she reached up on her tiptoes, and, oh, goodness, Thorin moved down until their lips were near to brushing with every word, and Bella had no idea if this was her planned seduction or if Thorin’s lips had just turned into those funny little magnet stones the men sold in Bree. God they were so soft, on such an imposing dwarf.

“Ask what, bunnel?” He rumbled, and really that tipped the scales, Thorin’s lips were magnetic, his voice was a mystical force of seduction, and she really had to kiss him.

For several minutes. Until she heard a rather irritated “Yer majesty,” calling down the halls, sarcastic-like, and she remembered that she couldn’t get caught out by Dwalin lest she be foiled.

She pulled away, lips thrumming, cheeks a little red from the prickle of his beard, and gathered herself, fingers tight now on his lapels. “Right.” She said, firmly.

Or not so firmly, because she was still staring at his lips.

“Right,” she repeated, when Dwalin sounded closer. “I needed to ask about seeing our marriage contract. Surely you can grant me just a little peek. We’ll no doubt start in actuality soon and surely you don’t want me to be utterly unprepared?” Her hands snuck inside Thorin’s coat now, just to touch the skin of his neck, and really, it had altogether to do with how drafty it was in the still-under-restoration mountain, and nothing else.

Thorin frowned down at her, just a little. “Balin assured me he gave it to you yesterday. I must applaud your foresight. Better to get any cultural differences out of the way before the day when we sign it. Did you have any questions?”

“Right.” Bella repeated, sounding very much like she’d had after her ill-advised encounter with a rock in the Battle of the Five Armies, when she’d rattled her wits.

She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed Thorin once more, just a peck, because it really was adorable that he was sticking to the party line. She stroked his neck with her thumb, and this time it really was for seduction. Three whole months she’d been preoccupied solely with the state of his guts and distracted with negotiations with men and elves! All was fair in combat and contracts, after all.

“Right, my love.” She tried, very hard, not to smile. “I’d like to think I know you, and I know your romantic soul.” She pecked him again, because really, she’d gotten his lips all warm and swollen and it was wasteful not to enjoy that. “Now that I know that whole Mithril Incident was your proposal it makes so much sense. And how you argued for me to plant my acorn here! At home! My heart will never recover. A dwarf like you doesn’t spend his hard-won three-month lead in negotiations with a generic three-page contract that could be found easily in the villages of Men. Do give me some credit. I know you want this wedding as much as I. You must be working very hard on our marriage contract.”

“I am not a solicitor, ghivashel.” Thorin said, lips wet, voice rumbling.

“I know,” Bella sighed, delighted that he would be nervous about this; as if despite his wording she would not see the love in his every page. She stroked his neck, and fought the urge to lay her face against his chest. She’d learned the hard way that his ceremonial armor was hard on the cheeks. “But you are ever clever in your turn of phrase. I do adore your speeches.”

“Amrâlimê,” Thorin asked, bemused and altogether distracted by Bella’s small hands under the collar of his shirt and touching the warm skin of his collarbones, flanking his throat, “As I am not a solicitor, why would I spend any attention on _that_?”

And well, maybe _eventually_ Bella would care that she’d given up the location of this secret little closet up to Dwalin and the rest of the guard, but right this minute she was calling off this marriage under the mountain.

***

Bella emerged from her rooms three days later, after spending some considerable time considering everything she knew about the dwarven institution of marriage. Which, apparently, was a whole lot less than she had first assumed. Of the Company, she knew only Bombur and Gloin to be wed, and very happily so, to their indication of it. Dwarven marriage was…different. But surely it didn’t have to be _lesser_ than a proper Hobbit marriage. The incidence of marriage was certainly greatly reduced, but Bella hadn’t seen the slightest indication that the same held true for _affection_.

Bella had long ago come to the conclusion that the likelihood of her own marriage being like her parents was quite small, and in some ways that was the best; she was her own person and her marriage would be her own. Even if she could remember so clearly in her mind’s eye Belladonna brandishing his copy of her parents’ contract with a sly, delighted smile and demanding that it was time for amending, or the soft, loving day where Bungo had taken his copy to a wan Belladonna’s bedside and carefully excised every single mention of multiple fauntlings with a soft _none of this is worth you._

But to be married with the _vaguest_ and most _perfunctory_ marriage contract of all? Well.

It was obvious that Thorin loved her. And her heart would accept no others. She had waited fifty-two years for him in Bag End, and she refused to separate from him _now_ , over this. They simply had a different _kind_ of romance between them. A dwarven kind. Yes. She was a hobbit among dwarrow now, living in a dwarven city and pairing with a dwarven fellow and becoming a dwarven queen. They would simply have a dwarven marriage to go with it.

Even if it hurt her little hobbitish heart, just a little. She had chosen this place and these people and she would be damned before she held any regrets.

She felt very guilty when she opened her door to Thorin’s worried face. He had that endearing little furrow over his brow when she escorted him in for tea time. Her hands certainly did not shake at all as she filled his little cup and sweetened it to his taste. She placed a still warm cranberry-walnut scone as jauntily as she could make it on his tea plate in apology even as she still could not quite meet his eyes.

They sat for a moment, her sipping her tea, and Thorin face drawn but still holding the saucer she’d given him as if he’d forgotten it, before she began.

“I must apologize for my behavior, Thorin. I fear that I have no excuse but that I find myself wrongfooted at another intersection between the customs of our people. We seem so similar at times, that I can’t even spot a difference until I’ve placed my foot in it. I’m so sorry. I think in truth it was best for me to have found this out so early in the proceedings so I can come to terms with it, now.”

“Then you still wish to wed?” Thorin’s voice was raspy, and he still held his little teacup so carefully in the air without drinking.

“Yes, Thorin. I still dearly wish for us to be wed.” Even if it didn’t mean quite the same thing.

Thorin finally seemed to relax in his armchair, his still form unbinding on the exhale of his breath. “I am ever so glad to hear you say that, ghivashel.” He near dropped his teacup to the table and leaned forward to snatch her hand. “But I must ask whatever has offended you so. I have no other hobbit to ask and Balin assures me the that the contract he gave you is standard.”

Bella looked down at her clasped hands, and squeezed Thorin’s broad calloused fingers in her own. He still looked like a Blacksmith King, her love, and she would have him as he was, dwarven marriage and all. “It’s a silly thing, Thorin.” She paused. “I…overreacted,” Bella said, proud of her evenness. It hurt to say, but this was different. She would never accept this from a hobbit lad back home, but she was not home, and Thorin was certainly not a hobbit _._

“Bella,” Thorin said, and the bell of his voice was a chastisement. “I need know what offended you so. No matter the relative…silliness… of the subject.”

Bella fidgeted for long moments. “’Tis only that my people spend some time developing customized marriage contracts among our intendeds,” she said in a rush. She took a deep breath, forced herself to slow. “It is, well… expected… that the courting couple spend some time detailing the expectations of their wedding and their life beyond. But it is no matter!” Bella’s voice gained strength on her last words. “For a wedding is a wedding certainly, and surely a marriage is the same!”

Thorin paused for a great long moment, considering her. He took a nibble of her scone with his free hand, and then, upon the tasting, devoured the whole of it. Bella replaced it, the hostess she was, trying to maintain the same jaunty angle from before.

“This is an important requirement to hobbit marriage.”

Bella looked down at her basket of scones. She prevaricated a little. “Well, it is the _done_ thing, certainly, but who can say as to _requirement_?” Her voice rose too much at the end. It was definitely a requirement.

Thorin looked at her a long moment, taking in the wringing of her hands and her fidgeting in her chair. He finally took a sip of her tea, now that his hands were free, although who could say if he actually tasted it. His second scone made a disappearance same as the first, and surely he tasted _that_. “Then it is I who must apologize, bunnel, for all the talks we once had of courting I made the assumption that hobbits didn’t regulate these things like my own people. There seemed to be much laxity within hobbit custom, with the main importance the intent of the couple.”

Bella just waved her hand and smiled wanly. “Like I said, a marriage is a marriage.”

Thorin studied her for long moments. “I take to wife a hobbit. And it is as a hobbit I marry her, and wish her to be none other than she is. It would be simplicity itself to accommodate your customs in such as this. I wish you to feel represented in this marriage, for I cherish none other such as you.”

Bella looked down. “I have chosen you, Thorin, known as Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. I will not quarrel over how I choose to wed you. I choose you just the same.”

“Bella,” Thorin leaned forward, and caught her gaze in his stunning, sparkling eyes. “And I have chosen you, Belladonna Baggins, known as Barrel-Rider, Dragon-Riddler, daughter of Bungo, Master of Bag-End. I do not marry a dwarf, and I do not wish to. I want to give you what customs of your people that I may. Know, explain to me this marriage contract, so that I might marry you in the custom of your people as mine, so that we may be wed in the eyes of both Mahal and Yavanna, and there be no question between us that our lives be entwined.”

Well, that was romantic, Bella thought, trying to fight the burning in the corner of her eyes. Her romantic dwarf. She furrowed up her mouth, trying to keep to her decision. “It’s really not—”

“My bride is a hobbit.” Thorin spoke, his voice resonating in that way he did that made his dwarrow fall in in line, and her hobbit hormones dance in tune. “I would please _you_.”

Bella hesitated, for a long moment, before she fell into the spell of his dark eyes and spoke in a burst. “Well, really, it’s not that much different, it’s just that we would discuss the expectation of married life, that we would pledge together these expectations, and that we would form this judgment together, and forge a contract forthwith, just between us.”

“Then let us forge it,” Thorin said decisively. “A customized contract, for my hobbit bride.”

“Oh Thorin,” Bella cried, and she leaned over in her seat until she was pressed against Thorin’s chest, and she could feel each impassioned breath. He was wearing furs, for once, not his dratted armor, and it was soft enough against her cheek that she could feel the hardness of his musculature beneath. “Thank you, thank you.” she whispered, softly. “It would mean so much.”

***

“Alright, lassie,” Balin said, and the meeting Thorin had drawn between the three of them. “What does this contracting require?”

“Ooh,” Bella’s hands fluttered, more nervous than this should suggest. “Well, first we would both form panels of our representatives, for negotiation. Each declares a head of this panel, to speak in our interests. Then we would write out a list of our expectations of our marriage and our life therein, and our sponsors will then meet and deliberate on them. Then we revise.” She smiled, excited. “Deliberations can get rather heated on some subjects, but it’s all part of the fun. My cousins Otho and Lobelia argued for some time on the order of hyphenation within their last name, even though Lobelia secretly agreed with the order. She just wanted Otho’s consideration in their wedding china. The dispute and the solution of it are rather the point. It rather displays the importance of communication and compromise in the marriage.”

Balin and Thorin looked at her rather blankly, and it made Bella rather cross. “It’s rather romantic, really.” They both looked at her, and, although Thorin tried, and Balin tried not at all, she could see that they both did not believe her.

“Well, really,” She tried. “Perhaps I might show you an example? And you might come to better understand?”

“I think that would be best, lassie.” Balin finally said.

Bella withdrew a carefully taken down (and really, it had been much of a trial, sending a veritable fleet of ravens to carry two and three pages at a time, in shifts no less, to the Shire) copy of the recently engendered marriage contract between Belinda Proudfoot and Jameson Bracegirdle. It was a curt contract, in her opinion, but covered the basics of the art. It numbered nearly ninety pages of respectably sized parchment. Best to start her dwarrow off slow. She proudly placed it on the table between them, carefully squaring the stack with her hands to show it off to its best effect.

She gestured, excited, at the sheaf of parchment. “Here!”

“Why, that’s nearly two inches thick!” Balin exclaimed.

“I know, it’s rather short,” Bella continued, “but it definitely contains all the basic requirements. I was part of the negotiations on behalf of the bride, so I can take you through the developmental steps in the negotiations. I used to be quite sought after for marriage contracting, even unwed as I was.” Bella sighed, reminiscing fondly. “The Tooks, you see, my mother’s family, have a long history of celebrated contract negotiators and I definitely learned under her tutelage. My parents’ contract was very fine, and is often held up as a very romantic example in the Shire,” she couldn’t help but boast a little, cheeks flushing, for her parent’s contract was very fine _indeed_.

Balin and Thorin seemed to gape at her for a moment, and she tried not to wilt under their blank-eyed regard.

“Er, would you like a chance to read it? Or would you like me to start with the basic subsections? It’s not really done for me to advise, being the bride to the bridegroom,” she gestured at Thorin, “but I know this is rather new to you both. I think in this case we can make an exception, while we get you started out.”

Balin and Thorin shared a long look, and a few hand gestures. Bella couldn’t help but beam. They were already getting into the spirit of it.

“Perhaps we had best read it,” Balin said, finally, maybe a little weakly. Bella grinned.


End file.
